Wandering Child
by CSIVixen
Summary: Broken in mind and spirit, Erik returns to his lair to die....and wakes to find himself in a different time, with the same problems...and a new Christine. EC, mix of Leroux and ALW.
1. Prologue

**Title: **_Wandering Child_

**Summary: **_Broken in mind and spirit, Erik returns to his lair to die...and wakes to find himself in a different time, with the same problems...and a new Christine. EC, mix of Leroux and ALW._

**A/N: **_Anyway, new story that wouldn't leave me alone. It's probably been done, but Erik wouldn't get out of my head...and we all know how...**insistant** Erik can be when he doesn't get his way. So... read on!_

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing to do with the Phantom of the Opera except the 2004 DVD, the 1987 Original London Cast Recording, and an unhealthy fixation on Gerard Butler._

**Prologue**

**--------**

_'Erik is dead', the Epoque will read tomorrow. And it will be true; Erik is already dead to those who matter to him. I have given up on everything. My life is worthless. Christine is gone, the Opera burned, most of my music destroyed. I have nothing to live for. I have closed what few affairs I had with the outside world, I have hidden that which is mine, that which will always be mine, and I have returned to my house by the lake. When I have finished writing this last insight into a madman's mind, I will go once more to my music room; once more to the Louis-Philippe room which I made for my darling Christine. One last time to the boat and the siren, and then Erik will be dead. Christine will return; she promised me she would return, and I believe her. I let her leave; I could not keep her, she who would stay with me to spare the life of her beloved. I let her leave, but she will return to bury me. If she will find this, I cannot predict; I have many skills, clairvoyance not among them. I will leave it here, on my desk, and anyone who ventures into the ruins of the Phantom's domain will find it._

_-Erik_

Tears now spotted the page upon which the Opera Ghost wrote these words. Heartbroken and alone again, he despaired at ever feeling joy again, and so planned to end his miserable existence and let Christine live in peace. Folding the paper carefully, he sealed it with the infamous skull of blood-red wax which the managers of the Opera had always learned to fear receiving. Fitting that it encase the final words of the Phantom.

Leaving the note on the desk, Erik stood dejectedly, walking slowly through his house once more. The memories attached to this place were many, though few of them were good. Most of all, it was haunted not by the famous Ghost, but by the memory of Christine. The room he had made especially for her, the songs he had written with her in mind, the drawings, sketches and paintings, all with her as a subject. Everything reminded him of her.

Sighing, he turned once more to the room where he had slept during his reign at the Opera. He looked once more over his few belongings, his gaze resting the longest on _Don Juan Triumphant._ True, he had given a score to Monsieur Reyer; but that was the edited version. This, this was his pride and joy, the barings of his soul that he had not wished to let loose upon Paris. In it was everything he had ever wished to say to Christine; it was Don Juan and Aminta, it was Erik and Christine; this would be the work he would take with him to his grave. Picking up the manuscript tenderly, as one would a child, he cast one last glance around the room as he took a small vial from his pocket.

One drop would be enough to kill a man; Erik downed the bottle, and settled himself into the coffin in which he slept.

_Erik is dead._


	2. Chapter One: A Whole New World

**Title: **_Wandering Child_

**Summary: **_Broken in mind and spirit, Erik returns to his lair to die...and wakes to find himself in a different time, with the same problems...and a new Christine. EC, mix of Leroux and ALW._

**A/N: **_I just realised something. The font I use to type my chapters...is called Gaston xD I find that hilarious. Might just be me. _

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing to do with the Phantom of the Opera except the 2004 DVD, the 1987 Original London Cast Recording, and an unhealthy fixation on Gerard Butler._

**--------**

Light shone brightly, penetrating the eyelids which were squeezed shut in an attempt to shut it out.

"Bloody sunshine!" he muttered, frustrated, as he squinted, trying to look around.

And froze, eyes widening, as he came to the sudden realisation that he was not dead.

"About time! You must be a vampire, boy, I had to open the curtains to wake you!" The voice came from the other side of the room...and it sounded familiar. Erik looked up to see Nadir grinning at him. _But is it Nadir?_ Erik wondered. The man in front of him looked like Nadir, yes, but he was dressed in the strangest clothing...dark, blue pants that looked slightly stiff, black shoes that were practically indescribable, a white shirt that had no opening in front and would never be accepted by the society in Paris, even given Nadir's foreigners' rights.

"A...what...where am I?" _Ugh...I cannot even form a complete sentence..._

"In bed in your room...are you feeling alright?"

Erik looked around. _His_ room? This was not _his_ room. The walls were _white._ There were glossy paintings, very realistic, hung all around the room, and various contraptions sitting on tables and desks around the room. The only thing he recognised was the stand on top of the dresser, and what it held: his masks. But he should not be here! Was this some strange sort of Heaven or Hell?

"Erik?" Nadir stood and walked over to him. "Perhaps you should stay in bed today. I know this has been a big adjustment for you, losing your parents, moving in here with me, going to a public school in a month. You look quite pale. I'll be back later with some gingerale and crackers or something, alright?" And with that, he was gone, as quickly and silently as he had always done at the Opera.

_Parents? Living with Nadir? What in the hell is going on here? _Erik decided to get up, wanting to know where he was. The first thing he noticed was that he had changed. There was a mirror across from the bed he had been in; he could not help but stare.

His body had always been scarred, along with his face. It was a part of who he was. He had been the tall, skeletal man with the pale skin and the scars. Now, however, skeletal was not the word. He looked..._younger._ Clad only in loose black pants of a material he could not name, he could see exactly what had changed: he was no longer as thin as he had been. The muscles of his chest and back were toned and sleek, his arms as well. Stepping closer to the mirror, he looked as closely as he could, and not one scar could he see...except for his face. Though he wore a black mask that covered the most of it, one abrasion ran from the corner of his exposed left eye to his left temple. The rest, under the mask, he was sure had not changed, and he did not want to look. Satisfied now that something had happened to him, and he needed to find out what, he explored the rest of the room.

Dresser, filled with clothes; not folded as they should be, but thrown in wherever they would fit. Closet, in much the same state. Bookshelves, containing many books in several different languages, at first glance, organised in alphabetical order. Desk, with a thin, rectangular, humming object with a few lights flashing on and off. Cautiously, he moved toward it, reaching out one hand to touch it...

"Ah, you're up!"

Erik jumped what felt like a foot into the air, whirling around. It was only Nadir.

"Yes...I wanted to know where I was."

"You are in your room, in my house."

"Why?"

Nadir raised one eyebrow. "Why? Because your parents were in a car accident a year ago and they left you in my care."

Blank silence from Erik's side of the room. "...Parents? Car?" He was incredulous. The only parent he had ever known had abandoned him...he hastily blocked the memories from his mind. And car...this was not something he was familiar with.

"Yes, your parents...are you feeling alright, Erik? Perhaps you should not be up..."

"No, Nadir, listen, I do not remember my parents, I do not know where I am, I do not know what these things do!" Erik gestured helplessly at the things in his room, finally letting his panic, at being in a strange place when he was supposed to be dead, take over. "I was in my house, under the Opera, I wrote the letter to Christine, I put the advertisement in the Paris _Epoque _that I was dying! I was dead! Nadir, you must listen to me!" He fell to his knees, resting his head in his hands.

Silence reigned as Nadir stared at his young charge, trying to decide what to do. Erik had always been a quiet boy, even more so since the death of his parents. He had been homeschooled up until the end of the last school year, and was due to start eleventh grade at the high school where Nadir taught in a month. This latest development was completely different. Unless...something had actually happened.

Nadir had always had a certain belief in fate, destiny, the supernatural aspect of things. Erik's talking about the Opera in Paris, the house underneath...The only Opera in Paris Nadir knew of was the old Opera Populaire, abandoned in 1871 after a huge disaster and recently bought by a rich old dance teacher who had had it reworked. But Paris was across the Atlantic ocean, a far stretch from the small city of Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Still hesitant, Nadir tried to accept the fact that perhaps Erik was encountering a spirit, a previous life- anything to explain what was happening.

"Erik? Tell me."

The boy lifted his head, and looked Nadir directly in the eyes. It was then that he knew; this was definetely not the Erik he had known. The soul behind those eyes was older than Erik's sixteen years.

"I am Erik. I am the Opera Ghost. I am the Angel of Music. I live in the Opera house, the managers are terrified of me, and I taught Christine until she left with the bloody Vicomte. I helped build the Opera house, my mother hated me and I never knew my father." Erik paused. "But you do not believe me. I see it in your eyes, you do not believe me."

"You must realise, Erik, that it is not every day that a boy who is in my care says he is an Opera Ghost," Nadir replied carefully.

"Not _an_ Opera Ghost, Nadir. _The_ Opera Ghost. It is not like I had an army," Erik tossed back, frustrated. "Tell me something. What in the world is _that,_" he pointed at the rectangular object on the desk, "and what year is it? I know I am no longer in the time I was."

"_That_ is your laptop." Nadir received only a blank stare from Erik, where once his eyes would have lit up and he would have started rambling about his latest program. "It is a machine that runs many programs...it can do almost anything. And it is the year 2006." Another blank stare. "You must be joking with me. No person could leave their own time and be shoved into a different one without some kind of reaction beyond staring." Now Nadir was starting to get annoyed.

"I am no regular person," Erik acknowledged. "I have been accustomed to unusual things my whole life. The Nadir I knew in my own time would know that. Tell me about myself."

So Nadir spent the better part of two hours explaining to Erik his life, the various technologic devices in the room, and things about the world in general. He despaired of getting his charge to school now; not only was he a recluse, he was from a different time! He could tell that whoever this new Erik was, he was brilliant. He latched onto the computer immediatly, and somehow managed to dredge from a memory the old Erik's knowledge of the machine.

Eventually, Nadir decided that the time had come for food. Erik followed him through the large house, down the stairs, into the kitchen that looked like it was straight from the nineteenth century, except for the appliances, as Nadir called them. Stone floor, wooden panelled walls, a large wooden table in the center of the room, even a small chandelier in the middle of the room. Erik immediatly felt at home, even as Nadir pressed buttons on some of his _appliances_ and strange humming noises came from them. At a nod from Nadir, he walked around the room, looking in cupboards, inspecting the machinery. This was his element; spare time down in his house had been devoted to invention.

After a few moments passed, Nadir set two plates down on the table and called to Erik.

"Food! Time to introduce...well, re-introduce, I suppose...either way, try this!"

Erik could only stare. The food on the plate- if it could even be called food- was steaming, and a bright orange that looked slightly lethal.

"What is _that?_" he asked slowly, almost apprehensively.

"_That_ is Kraft Dinner. You love it," Nadir explained. "They're noodles that come in a package with cheese sauce and you put it in the microwave," he gestured to a small rectangular shape on the counter, "and it comes out like this. It's really very good."

"It looks ridiculous. Nothing that _orange_ can be healthy."

"Carrots are healthy."

"Those are _natural_. There is no way on this Earth that you will convince me that those come like that!" Erik exclaimed. "I will be fine without the...Kraft Dinner, was it?"

"You are definetely not the Erik I knew," Nadir said with a laugh. "Though I honestly will not miss these much!"

--------

**A/N: **_Bwahaha, Kraft Dinner...have never liked it, couldn't help throwing that bit in. ANYWAY. So this is a new idea that's been buzzing around my head for a while now. Any good? Leave a review and tell me if I should continue or not :) _


	3. Chapter Two: Changes, MTV, & Jack Black

**Title: **_Wandering Child_

**Summary: **_Broken in mind and spirit, Erik returns to his lair to die...and wakes to find himself in a different time, with the same problems...and a new Christine. EC, mix of Leroux and ALW._

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing to do with the Phantom of the Opera except the 2004 DVD, the 1987 Original London Cast Recording, and an unhealthy fixation on Gerard Butler._

_--------_

Nondescript shapes flitted around the cellar of the old Opera Populaire of Paris. Mere shades in the darkness, small moving patches that seemed to absorb what little light had infiltrated the endless tunnels.

"Ah, to be free again!" came a voice from the shape leading the pack. "Honestly, that body was the most constricting thing I have _ever_ been!"

"Says the idiot who took on the assignment," pointed out one of the others.

"Well, it _was _for a good cause," amended the first. "And you had to take the other one, so I think I got the best part of the deal. Sixteen years, however, is a bit too long."

"Both of you _be quiet_. We are here to collect the items he left, and then we leave. This place is absolutely horrible."

A chorus of voices united in agreement to that comment as the whole group made their way once more toward the small house by the lake.

--------

Surprisingly, to Nadir at least, this 'new' Erik was an improvement on the 'old' one, in some aspects. The Erik that Nadir had known since the boy came into the world, had never had a very good temperament. He could go from laughing to throwing things in a rage in five minutes. He had never really excelled in school, though he had done alright, especially compared to most of the boys Nadir taught. He had been extremely introverted, due to being homeschooled and generally kept under lock and key in his parents' house; he had only become _more _antisocial after the death of his parents, and learning that he would have to meet other people his age. Erik had always been content to stay in his room with his electronics, his music, and whatever would keep him occupied.

The 'new' Erik- or was it old, since he came from 1871? Either way, he was certainly an improvement...from Nadir's side, anyway. While not exactly social- the boy had not yet gone out of the house, and it had been two weeks- he did not try to avoid Nadir. He would eat with Nadir, talk to him, ask lots of questions, and then go upstairs promptly at nine and read for two hours before going to sleep. In the two weeks he had been here, he had gone through about half of the books in his room, which easily counted fifty or more.

This Erik definetely knew a lot more than he had before. He could rattle off facts in as many subjects as Nadir threw at him, and then some. He was obviously brilliant; he had picked up almost immediatly on the various electronic devices around the house.

Perhaps the two biggest differences were his eating habits, and his musical tastes.

The 'Kraft Dinner incident' had been only the start of the changes made in Nadir's grocery trips. A lot of things were taken off the list- none of which Nadir had any problem seeing the end of- and a few things added that were actually quite good. That was fine.

Erik, growing up, had known he was different. Nadir had known him his whole life; Erik's parents, though meaning well, had never really taken to the young boy with what they called the Devil's face. They had never mistreated him physically, never called him names, but his childhood had been sorely lacking in parental guidance. In retaliation, Erik had tried to do everything he could to get his parents to like him, listening to 'normal' music, wearing a mask to please them, doing well in school but not 'showing off', which they didn't like either. Nadir had never been too fond of the older Websters; in his opinion, the kindest thing they ever did for Erik was to die and leave him alone. Of course, after years of listening to the generally horrible ballads of the radio and MTV, Erik had not lost the habit. He had kept on playing his strange music- nothing like the rock and roll of Nadir's time- and Nadir had let him, hoping he would grow out of it.

Imagine his surprise when, one day about a week after he _changed_ as Nadir now thought of the whole affair, Erik came stalking down the stairs, taking them two at a time, demanding to know 'what the hell is the collection of rubbish up there?', and looking quite annoyed when all Nadir could do was laugh. Eventually, he managed to gather that the _rubbish_ was the popular music of the day, and that his counterpart enjoyed it.

"Not a chance that it will be played again, mark my words," was Erik's sentiment as he headed back upstairs.

All in all, Nadir had no real problem with Erik the way he was now.

Except that he had no idea how this had happened.

One day the boy was a depressed young man; the next, he was cool, calm and collected, very nervous and afraid but ready to take whatever was thrown at him. It completely astonished him

--------

So it came to be that, four weeks, lots of reading, and numerous interesting encounters with the television and MTV later, Erik was setting off to high school for the first time in either of his lives.

"It will be _fine._ I asked one of my students to bring you around, she's the only one who takes all the same classes as you who is in my homeroom class with you. She's a year younger than you, though, brilliant girl."

"Wonderful. I'm not going," Erik grumbled from behind the paper he was currently reading. It was one of his ways to get up to speed on the world, and he often got to it before even Nadir.

"Yes, you are. You are not missing the first day of school because you are afraid of a few teenagers. You will be fine, just stay the way you normally are...completely and totally aloof and mysterious," Nadir teased. The only response he received was a grunt, to which he just rolled his eyes and continued on with his toast.

Twenty minutes later, Nadir was driving towards the school with a satisfied smirk on his face and a glowering Erik sitting next to him.

"Now. When we get there, you will just come straight with me to the classroom. Students stay in their homeroom until lunch time, to get lockers assigned, make sure schedules are good, things like that. Christine-"

"What!" Erik unterrupted. "What did you say her name is?"

"Christine..." Nadir replied uncertainly, raising an eyebrow at the boy. "Is that a problem?"

"No...no," Erik replied tensely. "Not a problem." _Yes it **is**_ _a problem, _a voice in his head nagged.

"Alright then...Well, as I was saying, Christine will be in all your classes, and she will be hanging out with you for a while to make sure you get settled. She's a good girl, you'll find no trouble with her or Meg."

_Meg? This is some very sick coincidence..._

_--------_

_This is no different from that cage,_ Erik thought bitterly as he followed Nadir through the crowded halls. Other students were staring at him. Not that he blamed them; a tall boy dressed in dark clothes, wearing a mask, was probably not what they were used to. He fell deeper into his thoughts, keeping an eye on Nadir, and only really snapping out of it when he realised that Nadir was talking to him.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said, we are almost there, but I need to stop in the staff room for a moment," Nadir repeated. "Students aren't allowed in, as is evidenced by the 'staff' in the title, so you will have to wait here for a moment." Erik nodded his consent and Nadir stepped through the door, calling out a greeting to whoever was in there. Erik stood by the door, feeling, and probably looking, completely out of place, even holding the backpack Nadir had insisted he bring. He could feel the stares burning into him but he ignored them, choosing instead to concentrate on the bird that was preening itself in a tree outside the window. _Lucky thing,_ he thought, _able to do as it wishes...and not go to school._

"Alright, let's go!" Nadir said, sounding altogether too happy for someone who had a morning with a bunch of teenagers to look forward to.

"You have some serious problems. For one, you are too happy for eight thirty in the morning," Erik complained as he followed the dark-skinned man down the hallway once more.

"I'm a teacher. All I need are minds for molding," he answered, then laughed as though it were terribly witty. Catching sight of Erik's raised eyebrow, he added, "Jack Black. School of Rock. Good movie, if a bit juvenile. I'll have to make you watch it." Erik just shook his head, coming to a stop as Nadir pulled his keys out of his pocket with a flourish.

"Still this excited about school, Mr. Khan? I'd have thought even you would be tired of us eventually," came a familiar voice from behind them. Erik turned slowly, almost fearfully, finally laying eyes on the petite girl once more.

_Christine..._

--------

**Author's Note: **_Muahaha. And voilà, Christine. Poor Erik, Nadir isn't making things easy for him, is he? Oh well. More soon...I think. Unless school gets in the way --sigh--_

_Reviews are very good for my ego, and the part of my brain that writes ;-)_


	4. Chapter Three: He's A Hot One

**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing to do with The Phantom of the Opera beyond the 2004 DVD, the 1987 Original London Cast Recording, and an unhealthy fixation on Gerard Butler._

**Chapter Three : He's a hot one.**

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"Erik, this is Christine de Chagny."

Hearing Christine's name with _that boy's_ was like a punch to the gut for Erik. Nevertheless, he managed to force a smile and take the hand she had offered him.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Da- De Chagny." _Idiot, it's de Chagny..._he mentally berated himself.

"Christine, this is Erik Webster."

"Wonderful to meet you as well, Mr Webster." She returned the formality with a twinkle in her eye...and Erik fell all over again.

"Christine, Erik, classroom. I will give you both your schedules now so you can show him where classes are, Christine."

"Yes, sir."

Ten minutes later, armed with schedules, Christine was pointing out various rooms.

"That's Mrs. Connelly's class," she said, pointing. "She teaches music."

Erik was sure you could've seen his ears perk up. "Music?"

"Oh, something interests you!" She teased. "Yes, music. She's very good, trained in Paris for quite a while. I don't know why she's wasting her time in school. Anyway, that's Mr. Brown's room, he's Bio 11, we have him first thing tomorrow, not good because he's not _quite_ a morning person, but he's alright."

"Christine!" A feminine voice came hurtling towards them, along with its source- a tall, lithe girl with dark hair and sparkling brown eyes. Quite the opposite of Christine's blonde hair and blue eyes, though they both had the dancer's form. "There you are! Mr. Khan said you were showing his-" She froze at the sight of Erik. "Well, I don't actually remember what he said. But-"

"You can't remember anything except your dance combinations, Meg," teased Christine.

"As opposed to you, who memorises everything!" She turned to Erik.

"Meghan Gibbs, generally known as Meg," she said with a bow. "Best friend, comic relief, and dancer extroardinaire."

"Pleased to meet you," Erik replied.

"Out of three proper sentences he's said, that's been two of them," Christine told Meg in a stage whisper, laughing at Erik rolling his eyes. "He does that a lot though."

The conversation was broken by a bell ringing.

"Oh, that's first bell! Well, gotta run, Chris, see you in Bio!" Meg took off back in the direction she'd come from, and Erik and Christine started back towards Nadir's classroom.

"So, where'd you grow up?" Christine asked, hoping to draw Erik out of his shell.

"I lived close to Nadir," he replied, drawing on what Nadir had told him. "He knew my parents. I went to live with him after my parents died."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"It's alright. I didn't even really think of them as parents. I didn't see them often."

"Did they travel?"

"No, they couldn't stand the sight of me." A bitter laugh accompanied that answer. _How alike my childhood was to his,_ he thought for the millionth time since learning about 'his' past.

"That's horrible!"

"They were only human. What about you? Where did you grow up?"

"The countryside, near Paris. The de Chagny estate is near there. I'm the only child in my family, but my dad, he's a real stickler for tradition, so of course he wanted the oldest child to be a boy to pass the family fortune on to. I was sent to live with Meg and her mother, Madeleine, when I was seven. I'm pleased to say, however, that as of yet, I have no little brother." She grinned evilly as they entered the classroom to the stares of twenty other people. Erik wished he could turn around and leave; Christine appeared unfazed.

"Hey Chrissy, is that your boyfriend?" One girl called from across the room.

"Yeah, Chrissy, who's your hot boyfriend?" Another girl chipped in. _Hot meaning...?_ Erik thought.

"My _name_ is Christine," she responded coolly, "and not that it's any of your business, but no." She kept on walking toward the two seats she and Erik had claimed earlier and Erik just shrugged and followed her. Another bell rang and Nadir stood and moved to the front of the room.

"All right, all right, settle down, sit in your _own_ seats! Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen, to grade eleven! I'm sure this will be your favourite year yet!"

"That's what they say every year," the girl in front of Erik and Christine muttered. Christine kicked the girl's chair.

"You should have all gotten your schedules by now. Does anyone have any questions relating to that?" A chorus of assertions in the negative prompted Nadir to move on to what Erik had been dreading:

"And now, as a few of you have noticed," here he broke off to stare pointedly at the girls who had spoken to Christine when they came in, "we have a new student. People, this is Erik Webster. He's been living with me since last February and he'll be with us for a few years."

As a unit, twenty heads turned and stared right at the uncomfortable boy.

"Where did you go to school before?" One girl demanded.

"I was homeschooled."

"Where'd you live?"

"A few streets away from Mr. Khan."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Miss Whitmire, that will be _quite_ enough," Nadir barked at the girl who had asked that. "I will not have poor Erik put through that on his first day. If he is interested, he will tell you, if not, _leave him alone._"

She nodded and turned back to look at Erik, who pointedly pushed his seat back and farther from her. Closer to Christine- who he could tell was biting back a laugh- but that was just an added bonus.

Yet another bell sounded, this time followed by a woman's voice coming from what Nadir had explained was the PA system, used to play the national anthem and for the principal to make the announcements. The strains of the national anthem came through, slightly distorted due to the PA, and Erik cringed at the sound. Christine, beside him, having caught the slight movement, covered her mouth to keep from laughing outright.

"Welcome back, boys and girls, to yet another year!" The woman's voice was back. "To those of you just starting out here, and to those of you coming back, we will be staying in our classrooms until lunch time to get situated, and get aquainted with everyone!"

"She always talks like we're babies, or like she's one of us, or both, which is generally worse," Christine whispered to him, ignoring Nadir's frown.

"After lunch there will be an assembly in the gym. Regular classes will be starting tomorrow! Your homeroom teachers will be getting your lockers assigned, as well as telling you about the school's rules and answering any questions you may have about anything. Have a great day!" The click as she turned the machine off resounded in the quiet of the room, and then the buzzing of conversation started up again.

Nadir stood again at the front of the room and whistled to catch everyone's attention. "You have approximately one hour to..._get aquainted_," he said, earning a laugh from most of the students. "After that, we will be assigning lockers. Those of you who are taller will be glad to know that I assign lockers by height." Another laugh, and Erik looked at Christine quizzically.

"Later," she mouthed at him, and he nodded.

"I will assume from your earlier responses that you have no questions about your schedules, so consider the next hour free game," he finished to applause from the students, who immediatly started splitting up again into the groups they had been in before being told to take their seats.

"What was that about taller people and lockers?" Erik asked finally.

"Oh, that. See, the lockers here are kinda stupidly arranged. They're all about this high," she gestured with her hands to indicate about three feet, "and stacked in twos, one on top of the other, along the walls. Bottom lockers are pretty much the bane of everyone's existance, particularly taller people. I've never had that issue, however," she finished with a pout.

Erik laughed. "It's not that great being tall," he replied. "Although it is useful once in a while."

"Whereas being short is not useful at all unless you're five years old," she retorted.

"So, _Chrissy_, how was your summer?" One of the girls who had spoken to her earlier came over and sat down near the two of them.

"_Christine_," the annoyed girl answered shortly.

"Gibbs calls you Chris."

"_Meg_ calls me Chris. Not _Chrissy_. And she's _always_ called me that. Now if you don't _mind_ I was talking to Erik."

"Right, Erik," the other girl said with a smile that, for some reason, annoyed Erik almost as much as the girl's obvious attempts at annoying his Christine. _Not yours,_ the little voice in his head reminded him, _she would never choose you, she didn't before..._ Banishing those thoughts he simply stared at the girl in annoyance.

"Yes, Erik is my name."

"I'm Caroline," she answered with another sickly sweet smile. "Perhaps you've heard of me. I've been in the newspaper numerous times, all because of my acting and singing, although there was that one time-"

"I'm sorry, I don't generally pay attention to current entertainment," Erik broke through coolly. "I have more important things to think about."

"Oh." She only seemed fazed for a split second. "Like what?"

"Like things that interest me. Such as the conversation I was having with _Christine_ before you so rudely interrupted."

Several people who had been pretending not to pay attention turned around and stared at him in surprise.

"_Excuse_ me?"

"Can't you take a hint, Henson? Get lost!"

The infuriated Caroline turned to Christine. "You think you're so special, little miss I'm-a-dancer-and-smart-and-better-than-you!"

"Says little miss I've-been-in-the-newspaper-three-times," Christine shot back. "If you honestly think anybody cares, you've got something else coming."

A slap resounded in the now silent classroom. Caroline smiled smugly, turning away, only to have the smile wiped from her face as she was turned back forcefully by Erik.

"Touch her again," he growled, "and it will be the worse for you." He flung her arm away from his hand and turned to Christine. "Are you alright?" he asked, lowering his voice a little.

"A little shocked, and it stings, but I'm fine," Christine answered with a nod. "You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did. She was being an insufferable idiot, and she slapped you," Erik said quite calmly, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Still. You've just made an enemy of one of the most powerful people in the school."

"Better than being associated with her." Truth be told, the girl reminded him all too much of La Carlotta, that prima donna of now-ages past. He was glad he had had the chance to be rid of her so quickly. His moment with Christine, such as it was, was interrupted by Nadir bustling over.

"Are you all right?" he asked anxiously. "She'd been sent to the office."

"I'm fine, it kinda stings but I'm good," she repeated, then laughed. "Did you see her face when Erik talked to her? She looked about ready to fall over."

"Yes, about that." Nadir turned to Erik. "What precisely did you say to her?"

"That if she touched Christine again, she should watch out."

"That's a threat."

"Yes, it was intended as one."

Nadir sighed. "This one time, because it was not serious and it was in defense of Christine, I will not write you up. Erik, threats are against the rules. I am advising you not to carry it out."

"Oh." The tall boy looked slightly taken aback. "Noted."

"Thank you." He looked down at his watch. "Well, half an hour." He looked around at everyone watching them silently. "As nobody is taking advantage of this opportunity to talk, we shall begin assigning lockers. Line up at the front of the room."

Slightly puzzled, they all did as they were told. Nadir walked down the line, pointing at certain people and telling them to move to the other side of the room. Erik realised immediatly what he was doing: seperating the taller people from the shorter ones, for locker assignment. He and Christine, unsurprisingly, were in different groups.

"Wow, stood up to Caroline Henson on your first day. I'm impressed." The voice behind him caused Erik to turn. A boy slightly shorter than himself was looking at him amusedly. He held out his hand. "Ron Lucas. Friend of Christine's. Horrible name, Ron, isn't it? What parent names their son Ron, beyond the Weasleys?"

Erik laughed at that. Harry Potter, by chance, had been the first book he had picked up, and he had read straight through the series. "It's alright as a name. Better than, say, Mundungus?" The two laughed, and Erik was glad at finding common ground with someone.

"Amazing, as popular as Harry Potter is, how few people have read the books," Ron said thoughtfully. "It's that way with a lot of good books. Lord of the Rings, Lemony Snicket..."

"You can never get better than books," Erik agreed.

"Alright, ladies and gents, you will each pick a number." Nadir held out two containers, one to each each line. "Evens on bottom, unevens on top."

Erik waited impatiently to get his number. Ron got his first.

"163."

Erik got his. "I've got 165."

"Great! Now let's hope Christine's 164 or 166," Ron said loudly, obviously wanting Christine to hear.

Looking over to her just as she got her number, Erik couldn't suppress a smile as she pumped her arm in the air and called,

"166!" She bounded over. Ron glanced at Erik.

"I pity you, man. She'll probably want to share with you, cause you're right over her."

"For once, dear old Ronald has it right," she said with a grin. "I see you two have met. Anyway, yeah, Erik, you get the honour of sharing lockers with me. It's a lot easier than having one. Binders and books go in one, normally the top, and coats and stuff go in the bottom. Everything just fits better like that," she explained. Erik nodded.

"It makes sense."

"She's a neat freak," Ron warned.

"Good. If she wasn't, there would be a few problems."

"Oh, Christine has met her match! See, now you have someone like you, you won't have to bother me as much!" Ron exclaimed.

"Get over it, Ronald, I will _still_ be on your case. Now I'll have an ally." She turned a stern eye on Erik. "Right?"

"Of course." Little did she know, he could refuse her nothing...

Once again, they were interrupted by Nadir yelling at the whole class to calm down.

"Everyone, out in the hall. You have ten minutes to get everything in your lockers!" Laughing, Christine, Erik and Ron made their way outside.

"Ooh, end lockers, they're the best!" Christine proclaimed with a grin as they found theirs. "People on only one side," she explained at Erik's questioning look.

"_You_ have the locker above mine!" An incredulous voice followed its owner over to Ron. "I can't believe I have to have one of _her _friends' lockers over _mine_. Mr. Khan!"

"Meet Kimberly Thompson, Caroline's best friend, and almost as bad as Caroline herself," Christine muttered with a roll of her eyes.

"I heard that, Chagny!"

"_De_ Chagny! Honestly, you'd think these people would have a slightly better respect for the name." She turned to Erik. "They don't like me because, while my name is apparantly 'royalty', I choose to hang out with commoners like Meg and Ron," she informed him with a laugh. "Not to mention I hate _their_ version of royalty- aka, Miss Priss herself."

Erik shook his head. He was still slightly fazed at the girl he thought of as _his_ Christine being exactly the same...and yet so different.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Erik's first day of school was nothing short of horrendous, in his opinion. Not the worst that had happened to him, by any means, but most definitely not a good thing. The whole confrontation with that girl- Caroline?- had almost been the best part of the day; it took second place to, obviously, being with Christine the whole day. Lunch had been interesting; the food in the cafeteria had looked almost as bad as the orange stuff Nadir had tried to feed him for his first meal. Kristine, Meg and Ron had all laughed at him when he took one glance at their trays and immediatly stated that he was never buying anything from there.

The assembly was the worst part of the day. It had started out all right, with the principal giving out her messages, basically the same as she'd said over the PA, so it was a waste of time. She had given a welcome speech to the tenth graders and then had spent time pointing out the new students in eleventh and twelfth grades. She had called on Erik as 'the boy in the mask' and the _entire_ student population had turned and stared. Christine and Ron, to their credit, glared at everyone until the majority had turned away. Erik had felt like going back to Nadir's house- he _almost_ considered it home, now- and staying there for the rest of the year, but he laughed it off and had been rewarded by a beautiful smile from Christine.

When he got home, he muttered something to Nadir about a book he wanted to finish and holed himself up in his room. Christine had asked him about something called MSN and he had just told her that he didn't use it much and wasn't sure of the address, but he would get it to her. Now, he had to figure out what this MSN thing was.

Several hours later, when Nadir called him down for supper, he had all but forgotten the assembly. He had figured out MSN without much of a problem, and had discovered that he already had the program. Unfortunately, he didn't know the old Erik's password, so he decided to not waste time trying to crack it and just come up with his own. That had taken up about twenty minutes, and he had finally just typed in fantomedemusique and pressed the button. With that accomplished, he proceeded to find the book he had been reading earlier and finish it.

"Not every day will be like this one," was the first thing Nadir told him when he entered the kitchen. "People will forget about it."

Erik stared at him blankly. "Forget about what?"

"You don't remember?"

"Oh, the assembly. Doesn't matter," Erik said unemotionally. "What's for supper?"

Nadir had learned from the beginning not to bother trying to get things out of Erik if he didn't want to let them out.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Later that night, when Erik had finally gone to sleep, the shadows seemed to darken. Nondescript shapes flitted around his room.

"Oh, he's a cutie all right!" One voice broke the silence.

"Do be quiet. You'll wake him," another broke in.

"Not this one, he's out like a rock." The third shape, as if to prove a point, settled itself down in front of Erik's sleeping face, the disformed side pressed into the pillow.

"The expression is 'out like a light', dimwit."

"I don't care!"

"All of you, be quiet," a fourth voice, obviously the leader, broke in. "Leave the things and let's go, we have much to do tonight." The shadows flew around the room, depositing certain items on the desk before all but one left.

In the morning when Erik awoke, he felt that he was being watched, but there was definitely nobody there. Shaking it off, he got up and walked toward the door, stretching. On his way out, something on his desk caught his eye, and he froze mid-stride.

_Don Juan. _The manuscript was sitting there, on his desk, along with a sketch of Christine, and a blood-red rose. Suddenly overcome, he moved over to the desk chair and sat down, staring. He didn't move for close to fifteen minutes, until he was broken out of his trance-like state by Nadir calling to him to get up for breakfast. Casting one last half-frightened look at the desk, he left the room to grab breakfast and a shower, ignoring the presence of the leather-bound manuscript that had been a turning point in Paris.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

**Author's Note**: All right, Chapter Three out of the way. Joy. So, just had my computer re-formatted because it crashed on me. Have not had it in my possession for quite a while. The result? I no longer have my drafts, my write-outs, or the chapters I had written for _This Is The Choice._ I'm working on re-writing what I had of that and am definitely seeing the advantage to having hard copies of everything sigh ANYWAY. So I have chapter three of this; working on re-writing chapter eight of _This Is The Choice, _that will be up ASAP. Also, have a new Harry Potter fic. Not for anyone who a)hasn't read HBP, or b)sees Draco as a bad guy. Cheers.

xoxo CSIVixen.


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